


I Dreamt A Dream

by deltachye



Category: A3! (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, OF COURSE IT'S OVER FOR ME TF, One Shot, Reader-Insert, ah... a mean tsundere in glasses that wears a suit.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:49:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23247310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deltachye/pseuds/deltachye
Summary: [reader x sakyo furuichi]"Why won't you look at me?"
Relationships: Furuichi Sakyou/Reader, Furuichi Sakyou/Tachibana Izumi
Comments: 6
Kudos: 111





	I Dreamt A Dream

“Right.” Yuzo clapped his hands. “There’s no better way except to learn from example.”

You raised your eyebrow. “Surely you don’t mean—”

“I mean,” he insisted in that oppressive voice of his. He grinned slyly and cast his eyes back out over the boys. “So? Who wants to show us what they’ve learnt to the Director?”

The lack of volunteers was surprising. You weren’t sure what they’d been doing, but you were sitting in the centre of a circle. Every time you tried to meet somebody’s eyes, they looked away. And maybe you needed glasses... they all looked weirdly fuzzy.

“I will,” Masumi declared suddenly, sitting up. Yuzo pushed him back into his seat.

“Not you.”

“Th-then… if I could…?”

The shy voice belonged to Muku. You swivelled in your seat to look at him. He looked awfully embarrassed, his red face flushed so pink his hair looked like it continued all down his head.

“Excellent!” Yuzo barked cheerily.

“Great, Muku,” you praised, glad he was coming out of his shell. “But… what’s happening, again?”

“We’re demo-ing kissing,” Yuzo replied, deadpan. Your heart froze in your chest.

“Wait! What?! No way—I haven’t consented! Also, he’s a child, and I’m… not. Are you trying to get me in trouble or something?!”

“So?”

“ _What the hell do you mean, ‘so’_ —”

“It’s like the shoujo mangas, right…?” Muku was suddenly in front of you, fiddling with the ends of his too-long sweater sleeves. “I’ve always loved reading the first kiss scenes.”

“That’s very nice,” you replied, strained, “but how about like. A friendly kiss on the cheek?”

“No good!” Yuzo snapped. “If we want these spineless boys to grow into men, they’ve got to act like one!”

“This should be good,” Azuma purred from the back somewhere. You resisted the urge to glare.

“Masumi-kun, stop fighting…” Somebody was holding the two-toned haired boy down, it sounded like.

“Don’t break my heart!” he pleaded shrilly, but it fell on deaf ears. Muku had closed his cotton-candy blue eyes and was leaning forwards.

“Shouldn’t there be a third person…? Then it could be a _triangle_...”

“All right, cut.”

Everybody flinched at the harsh voice. Replacing Muku was—

“Sakyo?!”

“Let me show you how it’s done,” he muttered crossly, looking down his dark lashes at you. His violet eyes shimmered somewhat behind those frames. You only had enough time to open your mouth before he grabbed your chin, a hand on your lower back. He’d yanked you forwards into his lap and his lips were on you, devouring you. The heat of his taste shot out from your lips to the tips of your toes. Suddenly the audience had vanished and Sakyo was teasing the moans from you with trained patienc

“Director!”

“Gyeh?!”

You shot up, nearly tumbling off of the couch as you were rudely jolted back into reality. Your heart thrummed in your chest and you looked around wildly. God, no. Anybody but him.

“ _Sakyo_?” you blurted out in disbelief. The dream was still fresh in your retinas and you quickly averted your gaze, staring down at your legs.

“What the hell are you doing sleeping on the couch?” he asked exasperatedly. Then, a signature frown. “Don’t tell me you stayed up all night watching those tapes.”

“Uh…” You glanced at the TV guiltily, which was still on since you’d fallen asleep before shutting everything off. Not wanting a lecture on wasting energy (again), you hastily tried making excuses. “Just for a bit. I had some wine and was drowsy.”

“Well, go to bed. You’re the only woman. It wouldn’t do you any good to be sleeping out here.”

“What, are you concerned for me or something?” Some of your bite returned, thankfully, and you desperately capitalized on it to seem normal.

“I’m just using common sense, which you apparently lack.”

“I’m not stupid,” you replied disgruntledly, rubbing the grogginess from your eyes. That was an awfully realistic thirst dream. Ugh… he’d never find out about this.

“Aren’t you?”

You reopened your eyes to see him leaning into you. What, had he read your mind?! One hand landed on the couch back. He pressed his chest into yours, giving you nowhere to run but backwards—your head hit the couch pillow and you were _stuck_. His glasses had slipped down his nose as he looked right down at you, his platinum blonde hair shifting with gravity. His whole body was shifting into you. His expression was unreadable.

“What’re you doing?” you gasped, feeling as vulnerable as a turtle on her back. Your hands were glued to your chest, pressing against your pounding heart so that they wouldn’t touch him. It was futile; all you _felt_ was the silk of his shirt against your skin.

“What other men here might be thinking of doing. Stupid.”

“Ow!” You clutched your forehead, his finger flick so strong it felt like it was going to bruise. He was already on his feet, pushing up his sleeves as he walked away.

“Go to your room.”

“You’re not my…” Your angry voice trailed off when he disappeared. “Dad.”

With a throbbing headache and a blush to boot, you groaned and hugged a couch cushion to your chest to bury your face.

\---

“Hey, Director… you don’t look well.”

“I’m fine, Omi.”

“But you look pale. And what’s that on your foreh—”

“It’s nothing,” you snapped, practically slamming the knife down on the cutting board to split the squash in half. The pieces rocked as if in fear. “Just. One. Of. Sakyo’s _gifts_.”

“Um… okay. I still think you should get some rest. You didn’t sleep well, right?”

“How’d you know?” you asked skeptically. Had he also seen you snoozing out in the main room?

“Sakyo told us all not to bother you.”

“...oh.” Your heart leapt into your throat. His hand by your head. The smell of some brand name cologne wafting into the grooves of your brain.

“Jeez, are you sure you don’t have a fever? Your face is all hot and you’re distracted.” The back of his large hand was on your forehead. The soothing chill of his touch was startling and you jumped.

“I’m sure. Thanks, Omi.”

“What’s going on here?”

Did he have some magical ability to appear at the worst possible times?

Sakyo stood in the doorway, having just walked in from the vestibule. He stared into the kitchen where Omi still had his hand on you for some reason. Hastily, you brushed it off and stared at the ceiling, unable to look at him in the eye.

“Great,” he chided, his low voice falling back into that monotonous spiel. “What good are you as a director if you’re out of commission?”

“I’ll make you some congee,” Omi offered, always the sweetheart. “Go ahead and take the rest of the night off.”

“Okay, fine.” You couldn’t very well fight the giant of a man and undid your apron reluctantly. You could also feel a certain violet stare burning twin holes into your back, no matter how much you tried to avoid it.

“I’m taking you back to your room,” he declared when you tried to pass him discreetly. “Since apparently, you can’t take care of yourself.”

“I’m an adult,” you protested bad-temperedly, staring forwards. He crossed his arms in your peripheral.

“A poor example of one.”

You chewed on your tongue, but it wasn’t like he was going anywhere. In fact, he seemed to be waiting for you to move, and God knows how stubborn he is. Whatever. Let him walk you to your room. It’s not like you had to actually talk to him.

“Hey—why are you coming inside!?”

“I need to talk to you.”

He pushed his way into your room without further warning and shut the door behind him. You gulped anxiously. Where were you supposed to look now?

“Sit down,” he ordered stiffly. You frowned at his feet.

“Don’t tell me what to do in my own room.”

“Sit down, _please_.”

The change of tone was surprising, you had to admit. Slowly, you obliged and sat on the edge of your bed, careful to look guarded. He dragged the chair at your desk over, spinning it around to face you, and sat. You heard him inhale deeply.

“Why won't you look at me?”

You blinked unwittingly, staring hard at your socks. He’d actually noticed? For somebody so far up his own ass, you didn’t think he’d actually be able to tell that you were trying to avoid him. While you were floundering for words, he continued, actually sounding genuine.

“If it’s something I said, you can just tell me. I’m not actually that bad.”

“Well, I dunno…”

It’d been a half-hearted jibe, but he leant forwards, peering up at you. His face was gentle, heartbreakingly so.

“I’m serious.”

You bit your lip anxiously. What could you tell him? _Sorry, I dreamt about making out with you and it still makes me feel like I’m going to die because I may or may not have repressed feelings for you. My bad! Carry on!_

“It’s not anything you did,” you replied carefully, choosing your words heavily so that you wouldn’t give anything up. “I guess. I’ve just been stressed.”

“Hm.” He leant back into his seat and you could finally breathe, having been holding your breath so that you wouldn’t get hooked on his cologne again. “I told you to let me know when you had too much on your shoulders. We’re in this together, aren’t we?”

“I know. Sorry.” Scraping together your courage, you met his gaze, but he was the one looking off into the distance this time.

“I’ll try and lean on you more,” you offered, feeling bad that he seemed to look so downcast. He nodded and his sharp gaze snapped back to yours, knocking the wind out of your lungs.

“Good. Then, get some rest. Real rest. Stop half-assing yourself.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

He put the chair away and walked to the door. You watched him go and noticed that his hand was lingering over the handle.

“Forget anything?”

“You said my name last night,” he murmured, turning around. “Before I woke you up. Were you thinking of me?”

Stupid, stupid you.

“It’s nothing,” you lied frantically, “I was just having a nightmare about you lecturing me over budgets. Nothing weird.”

“...yeah, okay.” It seemed to be more for himself than for you and he finally opened the door and left. You collapsed backwards into your bed, sighing heavily. The only way this could get worse was if he figured out your feelings for him.

He re-opened the door. (Seriously, this seems scripted at this point.) You yelped and sat back up, not expecting the sudden re-intrusion.

“We’re going for drinks,” he declared, and you noticed a redness on his high cheekbones. “When you’re feeling up for it.”

“Uh… okay. Is Azuma making us go or something?”

“No,” he spat out, looking pained. “Just you and me. ...that’s it. Bye.” He slammed the door shut.

“...bye?”

Had that been a date invitation…?

Just like him. You lay back down, staring at your hands wondrously. The smile crept across your face and you held your warm cheeks, closing your eyes dreamily.

What. An. Idiot.

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr: https://deltachye.tumblr.com/


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